


"Fancy meeting you here."

by thenorthernwastrel



Category: Fable (Video Games), Fable 3 (Video Game)
Genre: Implied Relationships, M/M, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:01:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23303563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thenorthernwastrel/pseuds/thenorthernwastrel
Summary: Ben just wants a quiet evening out, and he has to waltz in and ruin it. (I tried for ust; ship is much more implied than expressed.)
Relationships: Ben Finn/Reaver (Fable)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 6





	"Fancy meeting you here."

"Fancy meeting you here."

Ben looked up from his pint and scoffed. “Oh who let _you_ in?”

“What man in his right mind _wouldn’t_ let me in?” Reaver smirked and leaned himself next to the soldier at the bar.  


Ben just groaned. He had hoped his night was going to be spent listening to double entendres and drinking with someone he actually had a chance at sleeping with— but not _him_.

“Well I figured after what happened last time, the guard at the door may have had a better idea than to let you walk in freely.”  


“And who said it was free?” Reaver peered down at him and studied his face, trying to decipher every bit of information that may make this conversation go his way just a bit easier. “Besides, the _last time_ I was here, I recall a certain _soldier_ causing most of the trouble, not me.”  


“Not if you hadn’t been here!”  


“And if I hadn’t been here your night would have been— less _interesting_.”  


“Yeah, and maybe that man would still be alive.” Ben sipped at his pint. Reaver was right, but did he have to be so irritating about it? “Why are you here tonight, mansion getting too lonesome?”

“Not in so many words— You and I have unfinished business.”  


Ben laughed and drank more. “ _Nothing_ went unfinished last time I saw you, as I recall.”

“Oh, but I recall so much _more_.” Reaver leaned in closer to Ben. “You owe me payment.”  


Ben couldn’t hide his alarm and confusion— Surely Reaver wasn’t implying what he thought? “Payment? For _what_?”

The industrialist’s ever-present smirk only widened, and he glanced down to adjust his gloves. “Oh just some silly little card game I bested you in of course—- About 50 gold, I believe it was.”

The soldier laughed and found himself breathing a sigh of relief. “ _Fifty gold_? You hunt me down for 50 gold? Here,” Ben took the pouch that was attached to his belt and handed it to him. “There’s about 60 in there— Keep the change.” _Prick_.

But Reaver didn’t leave, in fact his disposition didn’t seem to change in the slightest. Then again, Ben could never read men like him, men who always seemed pleased with themselves and displeased with others, no matter what. Like the were waiting for _something_.

“Aren’t you going to pop off then? Have more debts to collect, I assume?”  


Reaver tapped his cane and looked about the room to the other drunk stragglers the innkeeper couldn’t seem to get rid of. “I think I’ll stay for a little while, see if they wander in as they often do. You don’t _mind_ , do you?”

Ben rolled his eyes but scooted over, should Reaver deem the seat next to him worthy of touching his expensive ass. He knew very well no one else was going to be coming in to the pub— It would be light soon, and anyone who owed debts to Reaver wouldn’t dare show themselves in the light of day.

“Not if you mind your _aim_ this time,” he mumbled.  


Prick.


End file.
